


Lux In Tenebris

by riverstones



Series: Tangent Space [6]
Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: F/M, Shameless Smut, issues lots of issues, the world needs more bmww
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-07-14 10:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7167185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverstones/pseuds/riverstones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Light in the Darkness. Explicit scenes from the Tangent Space series. BMWW in marital bliss. Please take note of the chronological order: each chapter occurs between the episodes. See chapter notes.</p><p>In the year 2056, after Batman Beyond and the JLU Epilogue, geriatric Bruce Wayne unwittingly imbibes ambrosia at his own wedding and gets a reluctant second shot at life.</p><p>Each episode can stand alone but is better read in order. If you had to pick just one, please read Ep.2 “Feel My Pain" which truly sets the tone of the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Light in the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: some time after Untouchable.
> 
> Old A/Ns:  
> Maybe I took a little bit of liberty with their characters, but it's just fiction. I can't write smut to save my life. It's fun to try anyway. Can't get rid of the "they're married" angle because the entire series started from the wedding. Intentionally vanilla because it makes sense in context. Also, the world needs more bmww.
> 
> EDIT: MINOR REWRITE BECAUSE CRINGE, This was my first explicit fic. Now with slightly less cringe.

 

The switch to activate the entrance to the batcave from Wayne manor was behind the bust of William Shakespeare.

She actually knew the guy. He was a pretty decent chap of sorts, although she had had to break the friendship after he got smitten with her despite being a married father of three... and this was before the great bard finally admitted to himself he was gay. Offhand, she wondered how Batman would feel if he knew that she was the Dark Lady of the Shakespearean sonnets. Maybe she would tell him someday. And then he'd probably need a new bust.

Although it wasn't her first time visiting, she still wasn't quite used to the dank of the batcave. She supposed it was only a matter of time. It wasn't too different from the cavern system in Themyscira where as a teenager she once took months of survival training with her sisters.

Chill air greeted her as she exited the elevator, and she placed her hands in her pockets to warm them. Her outfit of a casual blouse and yoga pants had pockets. Her favorite perk of all since moving out of her Watchtower quarters was not having to wear her Wonder Woman uniform all the damn time. Especially while sleeping.

Speaking of sleeping, she reminded herself why she had gone down there in the first place. To talk to a man about sleeping arrangements.

She found him at the workshop, tinkering as usual with his current pet-project-of-the-week. His back was towards her. His dark hair was still disheveled from bed head, despite it was already late afternoon. An empty lunch tray stood on the far end of his worktable. Under his swivel chair she saw he was wearing denim pants and loafers. She had half-expected to find him in costume, just on principle, although logic and reason made it unlikely. At least he wasn't in pyjamas.

Without turning, he asked, “How was your trip to the Watchtower?”

So he knew she was there. She reiterated her promise to herself that someday she would manage to sneak up on him. Anyway, she had the rest of eternity to attempt it.

She answered him, “Everyone but Green Lantern and Aquagirl has returned from Scadrial. Kal’s still holding the fort and Mr. Terrific put me on the backlog of paperwork. If that’s all they’re going to make me do, I think I’m going to extend my honeymoon leave for another couple of months,” she sighed, resigned. “Is that my new armor?”

“Yes.”

“Uhm, pants are itchy.”

“Fine, I’ll make adjustments.”

“Say, Bruce… I know you gave me the best room in the manor, and the lake view is truly lovely, but… isn’t it about time I moved in with you? I am your wife, you know.”

“No.”

“Why not?” 

Silence.

Okay, change of tactics. She grabbed his shoulder and turned him around on the swivel chair. Almost clumsily, she sat on his lap. She looked into his eyes and saw something that was not quite annoyance there, so she took that as a positive sign. She moved her face closer to his until their lips touched. And then she used her hands to touch other interesting places on his body.

After a while, he broke the kiss. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Trying to have a conversation. Or, rather, trying  _ not _ to.”

“Stop it, Diana.”

“Why?”

“Just stop.”

“You’re not gay, are you? All those women in your past was just an act?”

“Hell no!”

He’d had more than his rightful share of sex in the past. But he often found it dirty, making love to women that he didn’t actually love. And the one time he was raped, with a son born from the encounter.

Of course he desired her. How could any straight man look at her and not want? But he was the bat, he had a will of iron and he would not--could not--taint her perfection with his darkness. 

How could he explain that to her?

Diana wasn’t done with their non-conversation just yet. She stood up with a huff and stamped her foot in indignation. The batcave could take it. “The great irony of my life: In three thousand years countless men have tried to get me into their beds, and when I finally try to seduce a man--my own husband no less--he won't even dare to touch me.”

With a loud feral growl she found herself suddenly backed against the wall, his ominous shadow looming large over her. He pinned her hands to her sides of her head, his grip so tight that it would have bruised a non-meta. He looked so unpretentious out of costume compared to when in it that it was easy to forget how daunting he could get when pushed. With the way he stood dominant over her right then she would not be forgetting anytime this century.

Finally, she got a reaction.

“Don’t test me, Princess,” he snarled through gritted teeth. “Do you have any idea how many training dummies I’ve broken whenever I thought of you and Clark spending your nights together--”

She would not be intimidated. She glared at him, her eyes two luminous sapphires in the dark. “I never did it with Kal. Or with anyone.”

“I find it difficult to believe you.”

“I am the demigoddess of truth, my dear dark jealous idio-- _ mmph! _ ”

He shut her up with his mouth. He kicked her legs open and he pressed his thigh against her crotch, holding her in place.

She read all the books, hell she even found Stephanie’s collection of trashy romance novels. She heard all the tales from her sisters on how they would coax men to father Amazon children. She had even dared to watch a few (educational!) videos from the internet. Absolutely none of them even came close to the real thing. He'd kissed her before, but never like this.

A small voice at the back of her mind reminded her that she could flick him across the room--across several rooms--with the strength in her little finger. But there was a much louder voice, this one coming from somewhere below her bellybutton, warning her quite forcefully that she would regret it forever if she stopped him.

Both voices disappeared as he plunged his tongue into her, and all her rational capability flew out the window. Suddenly she was helpless.

Careful what you wish for, indeed.

He slid his hand under her blouse, up until he could slip his palm underneath her bra and cup her breast. The sounds she made as he kissed and caressed her drove him crazy.

He heard cloth rip. He felt cold air on his back. She had torn his shirt in half.

“Oh no, Princess. If I'm going to be naked, you will too.” He proceeded to do just that, taking her clothes off piece by piece until she stood bare before him, all the while suckling on her skin.

They weren’t going to make it to a bed. He had never intended for the batcave to support horizontal activities, but he wasn't about to lay his goddess on the cold squalid ground. He grabbed the bolt of red cloth he was using for her armor from the worktable and with one swift motion rolled it out on the floor.

He paused to look at her. She still pressed back against the wall, her cheeks and shoulders flushed. Her chest heaved rhythmically as she took shallow breaths. In the dim light of the room, her skin glistened. She was so wet it was embarrassing. He couldn't remember ever having a partner who wanted him so badly her juices had trickled down her thighs.

She was beautiful.

He picked her up only to lay her on the makeshift bed. He worshipped her breasts with his mouth, and the moans he elicited from deep in her throat reverberated in the room. She ran her fingers through his hair, encouraging him. She felt a pang as she noticed she had left him to do all the work.

“I don't know what to do now,” she whispered brokenly.

“Shh. Just let me.”

He pushed her legs open and settled himself between them. He slid his fingers down to her most intimate of places, caressing the wet folds. He was surprised to feel the telltale bit of skin, when he shouldn’t have been. “You were telling the truth. You’ve never done this before.” She would have replied with a scathing remark if only she could find the breath to speak.

He placed himself at her entrance. He pushed, gently, careful not hurt her with sudden movement. She was so slick and ready for him all she could feel was a tight, pleasant stretching. He went slowly, until he could go no further.

He moved, ever so slowly at first, and she howled. He stretched her raw, sending sparks of pleasure rippling from her center all the way to her toes and to the backs of her eyes. Gradually, carefully, he built up their rhythm until she thought she was going to faint.

She didn't know what to do with her hands. Her instinct wanted her to grab his shoulders, pull him inside of her chest as tightly as she could, but she was afraid of breaking bones. Instead she gripped the red cloth, and it took all of her remaining self-control not to tear it to shreds.

“I'm close,” he uttered breathlessly onto her neck. So was she. Just a little more. He slid one hand between them where they were connected. His fingers found her nub and he stroked gently, triggering her release. She convulsed with a scream, her insides quivering uncontrollably around him and that was his end. He made a low guttural sound as he came, muscles twitching as he poured his seed deep into her silken heat.

As his body relaxed, he gingerly rolled off to her side. He spooned her and grazed delicately at her neck. He noticed something remarkable.

“Princess. You’re glowing. Literally.”

His goddess gleamed with a faint golden aura from head to toe. She turned beet-red, and the light took on a rosy tint. He chuckled. She asked, “Did you just unlock a new superpower for me?”

“No hanky-panky during undercover missions for you. But,” he whispered in her ear mischievously, “this could be a very useful power for me. I can always tell when you haven’t had enough yet.”

“Is this how it feels for men too?”

“It feels even better for us. Scientifically proven. We just can’t hold the orgasm as long as you can.”

“Now I understand how Helen launched her thousand ships. All those poets from time immemorial were right. Gods, Bruce. If I had known it was like this, I’d have seduced you fifty years ago.”

“You might have managed to freak me out back then. I still had… issues.” He ran a hand uncertainly through his hair. “Apparently, I still do.”

The familiar mask was falling across his features, and she knew she had to stop it. “Oh don’t you shut me out.” She grabbed his hands and wrapped them around her waist. He didn’t resist. “I love you. I’m moving in, and we’re doing this again and again until you’ve worked this particular issue out.”

“Brute force therapy?”

“You don’t want to?” she asked, suddenly unsure of herself. Of course she wouldn’t force herself on him if he truly didn’t want her.

In answer, he pulled her face toward his so he could devour her mouth. Without breaking their kiss, he turned her over on her back and settled himself between her legs, his newfound favorite place in the world. She gasped as his weight pressed down on her and her body instinctively arched to get closer to him.

“I could live with it. Just give me a few more minutes.”

“Wait--now?? I didn’t mean-- I don’t think I can--”

Apparently, she could. Several more times.


	2. Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce helps Diana deal with slight PTSD after the events of "Feel My Pain".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first one was a bit cringe, but I feel a lot more comfortable writing smut now, so I think this is better. I found my voice, so to speak. Please enjoy.

Diana screamed.

_“Don’t kill him! I’ll give you anything you want!”_

“Shh, princess,” Bruce grabbed her about the shoulders. “I’m here, I’m here.”

Another nightmare. Her wild expression calmed down. “Did I… did I break anything this time?”

“No, all the vases are intact. And you didn’t hit me. It’s not as bad as last week,” he commented positively.

The blue eyes glistened, slightly wet. “I could slice your head off. I don’t want to accidentally…” she trailed off and hung her head. She reached out to take his hand, and he gripped back tightly. “Maybe I should move out for a while?”

“No,” he said in a tone that left no room for argument. “No, you're my wife, you're staying here with me. I can take whatever nightmare you may have.”

Suddenly she had an idea. She gently pulled away. She hovered out of the bed and retrieved her lasso from their closet, then returned to sit on the bed beside him. She held the rope out. “Tie this on me.” He proceeded to do so. He looped the rope around one wrist like a bracelet and tied a simple knot.

She slapped him.

It stung, naturally. Then he realized he was still on the bed and not crashed into a wall. “What gives?”

She held her arms out to him. “Squeeze me. Hard.” He did. She was soft. “Oww! Stop, enough.” He raised his eyebrows at her in question.

“I lose my powers if I let myself be bound willingly. But only if I’m willing. I have to be eager. It doesn't work if I'm coerced. If you tried this on me while I was brainwashed or unconscious—like a group of unfortunates found out the hard way during the hundred years war—you'd find yourself thrown across five rooms in two seconds flat.”

He palmed his face. “Princess, you of all people… One weakness. An unbelievably unexploitable weakness. Of course it has to be a kinky one.”

“Kinky?! What's so kinky about it?”

If she only knew. “Despite the physical evidence I still can't believe you managed to stay this innocent across three thousand years.”

“It's not like anyone could educate me when I could squash heads like grapes. That tends to be a libido killer.”

“Really, you never liked anyone enough to let him?”

“I liked a few men over the millennia, some more than others, but never up to that point. There was only ever that one guy, fifty years ago. It didn't work out due to lots of issues.”

He knew she referred to himself, of course. “That sounds like something we can fix right now.” He pushed her down, then grabbed the rope and tied her hands with it to the headboard post haste. They slept naked, which made the rest of his tasks convenient.

“Am I going to get another lesson?”

“No. I just plan to enjoy myself. You were on top last time.”

“But I like top.”

“You and me both.”

She moaned. “I—I like bottom too.” He was sucking leisurely at her breast. With one hand he palmed the other one, gently squeezing. He liked how she fit just right. He traced his fingers around her areola, then twisted her nipple. She moaned again.

Her legs opened and her hips thrust at empty air suggestively. He took the hint, but not quite how she expected. He moved down and hooked her thighs over his shoulders.

“Bruce, what are you—aaaaah!”

He licked. She screamed, this time in pleasure, her head rolling backwards into the pillows.

“No, I can't— Not that—” she squealed.

He wasn't about to give her any say in the matter. He planned to fully enjoy himself with her tonight, including breaking her lifetime record of successive orgasms.

He continued to lick her soundly. He rubbed her bottom with his hands, accentuating her sensations. His fingers found her entrance, and he slid his index finger inside. Then two. He curled them, gently scratching at her walls.

Her body stretched taut, legs and toes curling involuntarily. She glowed, that faint golden gleam. Her entire body trembled. He could feel her quivering around his knuckles. Perfect. He slid up, and in a single motion removed his hand and thrust himself to the hilt.

She howled, one orgasm immediately following through to the next as he stretched her insides open. Not for the last time was he glad he had had the foresight to soundproof the master bedroom.

He moved, and built up their rhythm. So soft. So wet and tight. Just perfect. And all for him. He was determined prolong the encounter for as long as humanly possible. He slowed down whenever he felt himself nearing completion, only to build up again.

“Please,” she begged hoarsely, “I can't—”

Enough. One final thrust and he let himself go, deep, deep inside her heat.

He rolled to her side as he caught his breath. He nuzzled at her neck as their bodies started to relax, her golden glow faintly illuminating the room.

And then he realized something. He sat up and looked at her. She was tied up, no powers, completely under his mercy. It was just too much. He couldn't resist. He tentatively slid his hands to the sides of her waist.

Her sapphire eyes widened. “What's with that look—?”

He tickled.

“No! No tickling!” She giggled. He continued. She giggled harder. “NO!”

The gleam on her skin blinked out, the rope came undone by itself, and he found himself splattered on the far bedroom wall with a painfully throbbing sternum.

Diana gasped. “Sorry! I hate getting tickled.”

He gingerly picked himself up and limped back towards the bed. As he slid back into the sheets beside her, he asked, “I thought you lose your powers if I bound you willingly?”

“Uhm, maybe there's a time limit? Maybe I gain my powers back after we finish?”

“Are you sure you weren’t just pretending all this time?”

She shook her head. “I'm incapable of lying, you know that. That's actually a weakness, believe it or not. However… technically it's not lying if _I don't know what the truth is_ …” she grinned mischievously. “Why don't you help me figure it out?”

His back still hurt from where he hit the wall. Despite it, he wrapped his arms about her and pulled her to his side. “Go to sleep, princess.”


	3. Not Anybody's Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set immediately after Black Flag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, it looks like am indeed doing smut between each episode. It's fun, ok? It's what married-and-crazy-in-love people do. I don't need a reason. Some parts would seem silly if you think too hard about it. Hooray for apt chapter title.

Bruce Wayne absently combed his hand through disheveled black hair as he stared at the batcomputer monitor. He felt a little cold, and briefly regretted that he had just grabbed the nearest shirt and jeans when he dressed up that morning. At the moment, however, temperature was the least of his concerns.

Graphs of all sorts were on display at the screens in front of him, and he kept his eyes on the environmental measurements. The numbers he saw, to his delight, were supremely promising. A timer dinged.

In the middle of the clear space behind him, Wonder Woman wearing full battle armor gradually faded into view. He promptly walked over to her and pulled the tiny projector from the middle of her tiara, stealing a quick kiss as he did so. “Success,” he stated.

He turned around and walked towards his workable, eager to make final adjustments to the finished, fully-functional cloaking shield projector. The challenge had been to develop a device that, unlike the full-body wrap required by his prior cloaking technology—the one used by Terry—instead could be mounted undetected onto his beautiful wife's regalia. At last, after weeks of experimentation, they had done it. No longer a prototype, now production-ready.

Diana leaned over his shoulder, mildly curious, “I never imagined the day would come when I could list ‘invisibility’ as part of my arsenal,” she commented.

“Is that bad?”

“No.” In a mischievous tone, she continued, “I can think of other bad things, though.”

“Hmm?” He was already tinkering at a circuit board and had only half-heard her.

“My love, can you promise me one thing? Just for today?”

“Anything as long as it’s not too crazy.”

“Not at all. I just want you to promise that you'll continue what you’re doing. Don’t mind me whatever happens.”

He froze, ever so imperceptibly. “What are you planning…?”

“Just say yes.”

Silence. When he finally answered, his reluctance was evident. “Alright.”

He lost his sense of her position. Cursing internally at his promise, he forced himself to keep his eyes and hands on the table.

He jerked in surprise as he felt a gentle rubbing on his crotch. Shit. So she did have naughty plans for him. His I.Q. was starting to go out the window.

Nimble fingers pulled his fly open and two dainty hands gently pushed his legs apart.

“Don't you dare look away from that circuit board,” she warned.

“Princess,” he said, his voice extremely hoarse, “you certainly make tall requests.”

“Not the only one that’s tall,” she said brokenly as she licked up his entire length. He groaned.

“From the race of _female_ Amazon warriors, where—where did you learn that?”

“Jealous?”

“Maybe. Hell no, unless your arsenal includes a magic self-repairing hymen, I know I’m the only—” he broke off, unable to stop another groan.

“Would you believe the Kama Sutra is up for free reading on Project Gutenberg? Although it's tame compared to Stephanie’s romance novels.”

“I'm half-interested. The other half is scared. God damn it,” he seethed, “I can’t do it. Get up here!”

He slid the circuit board away from him, reached underneath and pulled her up by her armpits, then sat her on the worktable in front of him. He didn’t care where her mouth had been. He needed to kiss her right then, right there, and so he did, hungrily. He slid his hands under her skirt and up her thighs, pulled off her panties and sheathed himself inside her. His entire body heated up in simultaneous pleasure and relief. She loosely wrapped her legs around his waist. He took his time as he moved, not rushing anywhere, simply enjoying being with her.

After a while he broke the kiss so he could tell her, “You do realize that after last time we got too close to each other here, I bought you a bed—it's just a meter to your right side—exactly for this purpose? Yet here we go again, happily screwing our brains out on the hardwood table.”

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“I feel great,” he spoke through his teeth.

“Then don't stop.”

“I wouldn't, but Terry uses this table too. Not for this,” he immediately clarified.

“What we do, in this cave, is not anybody's business. Terry can go to…” she trailed off as he glared ominously at her. “Fine.” Without further preamble, she levitated.

Bruce refused to be outdone. He leveraged his hands firmly on her hip bones and continued their movement, like he was doing push-ups, to her vexation. “Gods! In the air?” Oh, gods, he was good. Her hips twitched involuntarily as he pumped, and she tightened her legs around him.

“Tricky, but the weight training is paying off. Princess, bring us down. Couch, now.”

She floated over to land themselves on the red couch, maintaining their orientation. “Please don't tell me it's voice activated.”

“Kick activated. Sorry,” he pulled away and she immediately gaped at the sense of loss. He kicked at a hidden panel behind one of the couch feet, and it lurched underneath her as it expanded to full-size. He was back with her just as quickly. She grabbed at his shoulders as he connected their bodies once more.

“Off! Shirt off! Want your skin,” she tugged at his sleeves.

“As you command,” he answered. He pulled his shirt off and threw it behind him, quickly forgotten.

She mewled. “Better.”

He lifted one of her legs up and braced it across his chest, angling her knee just so. A position he particularly enjoyed. “Ready?”

Was she ever. He moved, in a rhythm so sweet and familiar she found it as comforting as much as it was arousing. No matter how many times he made love to her, whether they were trying new positions or falling back to the simple standbys when neither of them felt adventurous—it never got old.

 

They lay languid beside each other as they finished. At some point Diana had managed to lose her armor. She pressed her naked back to her husband's chest as he tightly pressed his arms around her waist.

He spoke, his voice unusually soft. “Normally, doing what we do as often as we do it… Don't we have to worry about the pitter-patter of little feet?”

Diana shook her head. “I don't know if I can bear children. I was sculpted from clay. I'm not the same as my Amazon sisters, who were borne by real mothers. I… I think I can, but I think I'm not going to, unless I want to. It's like how my lasso can physically bind me but I won't lose my strength unless I will it.”

“Do you want to? Or should I not have asked?”

“It's alright. I was wondering which of us would bring it up.” She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. “I have tried not to think about it. Someday… maybe I want to. Do you?”

“In regards to this, I want only what you want.”

She knew, he already had children. Damian, Terry, Matt, and all the Robins and the Batgirls who while not blood-related he had treated as if they were his own. In the life span of mortal men, he had already proven himself to be a great father, many times over. He had not been perfect, but he had done the best he could nonetheless.

Would he care for yet another one? With her? She could not bring herself to voice it seriously, afraid of what his answer would be. Afraid he would not want her. Or worse, afraid he would lie to himself to please her.

Someday, she would find the courage to ask. The day had not yet come.

Half-asleep, he asked, “Why are you here, Diana?”

“Hmmm?” She noted he called her by name and not by pet title.

“Three thousand years. All those men who vied for you, great ones among them, I'm sure. Why choose me, with all my issues? I am but an ordinary man.”

She had asked herself the same, countless times over many years. And each time without fail, she had an answer. “Because you care for the world, despite—or maybe because—that you are an ordinary man. I love you and your issues, Bruce. So much. Didn't you ever think that you wouldn't be who you are without them?”

Of course he did, but knowing did not make any of it easier to live with. “Diana—”

“I love _all_ of you. I always have.”

She could tell from his expression that a part of him still refused to let himself believe her. Someday, she was certain he eventually would. If she had to speak it over and over, or die for him, or live for him, or fuck him every which way…

They had the rest of eternity to figure it out.


	4. Into Next Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scene from Ep.4 “Cold Hands, Warm Heart". Diana gets jealous when Bruce runs into 70-year old Selina at a Christmas Eve party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The glowy thing and lasso thing were jokes I just threw in randomly, so I don't know why they're plot points now. Whatever works, I guess.

Bruce helped Diana disembark as their chauffeur dropped them off at the front of Wayne manor. He said, “I've never seen you jealous. It pisses me off, actually. No matter how many women I've been linked to, you just take it all in stride. Until tonight.”

She faced him. “I know you don't care for the other women. Your time with Barbara had been borne more out of mutual desperation than any sort of true love. With Selina—you genuinely loved her. She'll always have that part of your life that I could never share.”

He shouldn't lie to the demigoddess of truth. So he said honestly, “I did love her, a very long time ago. The are many parts of my life I wouldn't want anyone, no matter who, to share. But the best of my life is all yours, now and forever.”

She couldn't help but chuckle. “You are extremely suave, do you know that?”

“Yes, and so do all the tabloids of Gotham.” Of course he had to ruin the moment. “Now, let's proceed to the dress ripping and getting you fucked into next week part I promised.” He picked her up in a princess carry before she could say or do anything.

As he carried her through the manor doors, he said, “I never did this before, haven’t I? Traditionally, the groom carries his bride over the foyer on the first time a newly-married couple enters into their home. I was too weak during our wedding, and then the opportunity just never came up.”

“You haven't, but I did this to you several times now,” she grinned.

“I'm all in favor of equality.”

“I like it.” He gave her a questioning look. She clarified, “You carrying me for a change.”

Given her hazardous day job, that statement held unfortunate implications. He frowned at her. “I hope the only time I ever have to carry you is when it's a prelude to sex.”

“That's what I meant.”

He put her down when they reached the master bedroom. She asked, “You're not serious about the dress ripping, are you? This is a Tadashi Shoji original!”

“I think the spilled punch already ruined it.”

“I'm sure Kevin can manage to clean it,” she replied. “I know you can afford a new one but this is my favorite.”

He growled. “Less talking, more undressing.” Without further ado he pulled her dress zipper down. “Not serious on the dress ripping. Completely serious about the ‘into next week’ part.” She slid her stilettos off with her feet, then pulled her dress and let it drop to the floor. The punch had soaked through her underwear. He asked, “Shower? Or you don't mind dried punch? I'm okay either way.”

“Too cold for a shower. What's a few more sticky fluids into next week?”

He kissed her full on the mouth as she took the rest of her underwear off. She set about to unbuttoning his shirt lapels while he removed his blazer and unceremoniously threw it behind him. Last button off. Really, she could just tear everything off but one did not survive the earth marching in armies without having a sense of practicality ingrained. She tugged at the sleeves and his shirt promptly went the way of his blazer.

At her full height, without heels, the top of her head barely reached above his chin. This meant her lips were level with his collar bone. She angled her head and suckled at the hollow of his throat, earning her a low growl. She let her hands roam his chest, pressing against his sinews. She loved the feel of his skin. Scars and all.

She traced a large scar downwards with her lips, kneeling, then kissed him where the scar ended just above the navel. She slid her hands around his waist and down his back, down and inside his waistband until she could press her fingers on the dimples above his buttocks.

They heard his pants seams rip. “Hold that thought,” he said. He went over to her fallen purse and pulled out her lasso. “May I?”

“Yes, please,” she answered huskily. If he bound her she could go wild without worry. He guided her so she sat on the edge of the bed. He knelt in front of her, a dark knight pledging allegiance to his sovereign lady. He wrapped the lasso loosely several times around her left ankle, then tied the ends together into a simple knot. His coal-black eyes locked into her blue ones, and he reverently kissed the inside of her knee.

She suddenly found herself blushing beet-red. She didn't know why—she was an ageless demi-deity sitting on their marriage bed where they had already made love many times, and blushing was such a schoolgirl thing to do. Everything about this man simply made her not act like her three-thousand year old self.

He smirked. “You love me.” It was not a question.

“Uhm, duh?” Foot, meet mouth, she chided herself.

Suddenly he could no longer keep his hands off her. He stood up, and with the least number of required movements he kicked off his shoes, took off his pants, underwear and socks, then pounced. She squealed as he hooked his hands under her armpits and pulled her into the middle of the bed with him.

He pushed her down so she was flat on her back. He kissed her mouth, then gently slid his lips onto the pulse point on her neck. He licked, mildly at first. Then he sharply sucked in, causing her to gasp as he marked her with his mouth. The mark would stay while her lasso remained wrapped on her.

He put one hand between her legs. His fingers slid over her so slickly that she must be extremely wet, and she bit her lower lip in embarrassment at the evidence of how much her body desired him. What he could make her do just by existing. She grabbed at his shoulders and he thrust two fingers inside. She gasped, and her nails dug into his skin. In retaliation he pushed his fingers deeper, crossed them and _twisted_.

She howled. Her legs curled involuntarily and she raked her fingers across his back.

It felt good, sex without her powers. To be able to seize at him without having to restrain herself. He was strong, very strong, but only to human limits and nowhere near her metahuman levels. But with her own strength bound, she could clutch and grab and squeeze with no fear of accidentally breaking him.

He finally stopped when he got the inkling that she was about to faint.

As she attempted to regain her ability to breathe, he rolled her over so she faced down on the mattress with her legs bent underneath her torso. Oh, she knew where this was going, and she liked it.

He pushed, and she welcomed him, the pleasant, breaking tightness as he stretched her open. The sound of his breathless groan seemed to heighten her senses. He bent forward so his arms could go around her ribs, and she pushed back at him, meeting him stroke for stroke. He managed to reach inside her so deeply, she didn't believe it was possible.

His thrusts changed rhythm, again she didn't believe it possible, but he somehow managed to reach in even deeper. Maybe not deeper, but he was hitting _something,_ and it felt incredible. He slid one hand down to massage her clit, and then she ceased to think at all. She screamed, her spine bent back and her internal muscles clenched so tightly she felt the ripples all the way to her arms and toes. He wasn't done, but he didn't last much longer. After several more thrusts his grip around her tightened and she felt him spill into her.

With a groan, and without releasing her, he rolled both of them to lay on their sides. His breath was warm on her neck.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered. “Sometimes I still have trouble reconciling with the fact you're here with me.”

She didn't know what to say to that, so she said nothing. Instead she pulled at his arms so they wrapped around her more securely. He kept nibbling on her shoulder. She thought it sweet of him, and she wasn't complaining, but she found it rather unusual.

“It's pretty good,” he said offhand.

“What is?”

“The punch. You got some on your shoulder here. I should get their caterer.”

“Bruce!”

“Of course you taste better.”

 

Bruce woke up a couple of hours later as his wife stirred against him. She must have sensed the change in his breathing. He found himself staring into wide-awake twin sapphires.

“Don't make me remove the lasso,” she whispered, pleading. She pushed at him gently. He let her move him until he was lying on his back. She sat on his thighs, her knees straddling him, and used both hands to coax his arousal. To his surprise, it didn't take him long.

She repositioned and slid him inside her without further preamble, and he sucked in his breath through gritted teeth. She was pure heat. As she began to move up and down, building up their rhythm, she threatened, “This thing, this beautiful thing of yours from now on goes inside me and noone else’s.”

“Yes,” he croaked as he thrust upward to meet each tortuous grind of her hips. “There's no comparison. There never has been.” He reached to cup her face. He slid his hands to her nape, fingers twining into her dark tresses. He tugged at her, pulling her face down so he could claim her mouth. He made her swallow his tongue and his groans in time with each push below.

She was so tight, yet so soft. He could literally _feel_ how much she wanted him—at how her body always instinctively curved towards his own, the way her silken flesh quivered every time it embraced him—and she was unaware she did it. She wanted him, clearly, and almost to the point of desperation. He had never felt it with any past lover. How could this immaculate, untouchable creature of light want him so much, that she would debase herself without thought to meet him as an equal in the darkest depths of the night where he belonged? And he had proof that she would do it only for him and him alone. _Mine,_ his thoughts screamed, and it made him reach his edge much faster. He wasn't going to last. But she hadn't finished, no telltale glow, and he'd be damned if he came before he could make her do so.

He moved one of his hands to the small of her back, pushing her slightly downward to change their angle. He cursed into her mouth as he realized it had made him slide deeper into her heat, forcing him that much closer to his end. His thrusts became erratic. Her body shivered and she moaned, but didn't break their kiss. By sheer force of will he held on. He moved the hand on her back lower, until he could slide his fingers between her ass cheeks. He was so close. He found the puckered bump of skin he was searching for, and caressed it none too gently.

The glow came, her entire body seized up and she squeezed instinctively, and he was done. He made an unearthly sound and he clutched her hard. He released his seed into her womb in an intense wave of pleasure, his legs shaking uncontrollably with a final upward push.

The kiss broke. She exhaled, a breath she didn't even know she held, then fell upon him. She stirred and tried to roll off, but he held her in place. Keeping their bodies connected even as the throes of lovemaking faded away. “Stay, just like this,” he commanded.

They stayed together until the morning sunlight streamed through the eastern windows. He didn't know it then, but this would be the last time they would make love in a very long while.


End file.
